The Green Eyed Monster
by Mali Bear's Buddy
Summary: Sam calls Dean and Kaitlyn back from vacation to help with a case. When they find themselves the victims, their relationship threatens to unravel. Hunting brought them together...will it also tear them apart? Dean/OC established relationship.
1. She's My Apple Pie?

**A/N:** Let me start by saying I'm new to Supernatural, but not fan-fiction. This story started out as a something else and quickly grew out of control. It's different from other pieces I've posted because, in large part, this story is almost completely written. If you keep track of that kind of thing, it's looking like it will have a total of 17 chapters counting the prologue and epilogue.

I have started Kaitlyn's origin story, but I decided to go ahead with this one since it's mostly done. I know that's a little backwards. I hope you'll join me when I get around to posting that one. At present, the working title is _Fairest of Them All._

For **stephaniew**... My good friend and partner in crime. I find it rather fitting that my birthday gift to you was born of your birthday gift to me. Thank you for bringing me into the fandom and helping me dig my muse out of the hole she was buried in...I'm currently undecided if it's a shame she crawled into the gutter soon thereafter. ;)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Supernatural. I've just discovered that the characters are too hot not to play with...

Prologue: She's My...Apple Pie?

Kaitlyn stands at the kitchen counter, the promise of a flaky homemade piecrust at her fingertips. She stirs lemon juice, starch, brown sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg into the freshly cut apples with a smile. The timer pings to let her know the oven is pre-heated just as she begins spooning the apples into the waiting shell. She hums softly to herself, happy that she's finally found the time to pull out Gramma Sue's battered old cookbook. Happy that she's finally found the time to make something special just for him. Happy that they finally have some time to just _be_.

He sneaks up behind her, sliding his arms around her waist. She jumps slightly and feels the smile on his lips as he kisses her neck. "How many times do I have to tell you sneaking up on me when I'm surrounded by sharp objects isn't a good idea?" she teases.

But he doesn't answer, he's far too distracted. "Are you making me pie?" he asks hopefully.

She turns in his arms, offering up a piece of coated fruit to his lips. She smiles wickedly and, just as he's about to close his mouth around it, pops it into her own. "I dunno, Dean," she says saucily. "You did sneak up on me and..."

He crushes his lips over hers. His tongue slips easily into her mouth, savoring the spicy hints left by the treat. He pushes her back against the counter with a playful growl. "Don't tease me, woman," he tells her, his hands sliding under the edge of her camisole.

She raises an eyebrow. "And just what are you gonna do about it, Winchester?"

He grabs the spoon from her hand and trails it down her bared chest, watching the rise and fall of her breasts. He can tell this is turning her on. _Good. He sure as hell hopes so, because God knows she turns him on every goddamn second of every goddamn day. In ways she probably didn't even realize._

He licks the spoon, flicking his tongue against the wood the way he has against her skin. He watches her shudder, hears her breath catch. Dipping his head low, he laps at the sticky sweetness he's marked her with. His eyes find hers. "Get the pie in the oven, Kaitlyn," he husks, reaching for her hand, he moulds her fingers around the handle of the spoon. Her eyes are wide as he leans in to kiss her again. His hands smooth over her messy ponytail and come to cup the back of her neck. The kiss is lazy and drugging. It's thorough and tender. And he backs off just as her knees begin to buckle.

He turns her toward the counter, placing her hands against the worn laminate. He kisses her neck and teases her with a gentle swat to her backside. "I'll be upstairs," he breathes against her ear. "You know I can do an awful lot with 55 minutes." She feels the loss of his presence when he steps away. "Oh, and, babe?" he says, stopping at the door.

She turns, biting her lip as she takes in the sight of him leaning against the frame. A lump forms in her throat and she's unable to answer as he begins to unbutton his shirt. "Don't make me wait too long..."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

He's standing at the window staring out at the pond when she enters the bedroom. He's wearing blue jeans, the well worn denim riding low as his hands rest in his front pockets. The broad expanse of his bare shoulders and back is stunning. She caresses him with her eyes. "Close the door," he commands. His voice is dark and rough. As soon as he hears the latch catch in the frame, he turns to her. A devilish grin stretches across his face. "Now lock it."

She's not entirely sure why she's doing as he says. She's independent in nature and while she likes being held, she doesn't enjoy feeling oppressed. Still, there is just something about the sinful tone he's using. Something that makes her weak and wet. Something that draws her in over and over again.

He crosses the room to her in a few strides. He tugs the elastic from her hair, eager to feel the strands slipping through his fingers. His lips fall heavily over hers. It's like he's devouring her. Eating her alive. Like no matter how hard he tries, he can't get his fill of her. She whimpers when he stops, her eyes fluttering open and searching for his. He entwines their fingers, dragging her hand up to his waiting mouth. "Thank you," he says. The sound makes her quiver, but it has little effect compared to the way he brushes her knuckles against his prickly cheek. He kisses her palm, his tongue scraping across her lifeline.

She wants to ask why, but the words don't come. It's almost like she's in a trance. She knows he's under her skin. That he's long since worked his magic, taking her heart as his own. "Dean," she sighs, sucking in a breath as his hand glides down her arm.

His mouth finds the bend in her elbow. "Shhh," he tells her. "It's my turn." His hands slide beneath her top, pushing hers away as she reaches for the hem. "I want to undress you," he tells her, his eyes dropping from hers. "You're all the birthday and Christmas presents I didn't get as a kid..." he adds quietly. His fingers rub circles on her skin as he shoves the shirt higher and higher until he pulls it off. He casts it quickly to the floor; his hands greedy to explore, his fingers hungry to touch.

He presses her back against the closed door, his breath hot as he kisses her throat. "Mmm," he whispers, his lips and tongue tormenting her. "I think I'd rather eat you than pie any day..."

"Please," she pants breathlessly, her hands pulling him closer. They tangle in his hair, dance across his shoulders, stroke his back.

"Oh, there'll be plenty of pleasing..." he teases, licking at the corner of her mouth. "You taste like cinnamon," he whispers.

She wraps a slender ankle around his calf, needing to be closer. Needing to feel everything she can feel. "Quit torturing me already," she complains.

He smirks. He likes this kind of torture. It's the only kind he likes. The only kind he'll take part in anymore. The kind with payoff. The kind that doesn't hurt. Reaching, his hand slips around her thigh and he raises her leg almost to his waist. "There're so many things that I love about you," he whispers, his nose nuzzling against hers. His fingertips stroke up her leg, brushing just under the edge of the ridiculous little shorts she's always wearing the ones that make... "Your legs are a mile long. I love the way they feel wrapped around me." He lifts her off the floor, feeling her shudder as he guides her other leg around him. He starts for the bed.

"The noise you make when I do this..." His mouth closes around the taut bud of her nipple eliciting a throaty purr. He chuckles. "Especially when you sound more lioness than sex kitten," his voice continues to scrape her raw and make her powerless.

She shifts her legs to help him as he draws her remaining clothing away. "That purr is gonna turn into a growl in a hot second," she warns.

"Is it now?" he taunts, lifting her leg and rubbing the ball of her foot. He kisses her ankle followed by her calf as he slides it over his shoulder.

She decides to throw him off balance. To take everything he has to give her. To make him hers. So she reaches for his hand and, using the ankle hooked around his neck, pulls him to her. She captures his mouth as she slides her leg down over his back. She feels him smirk. Damn him. This is exactly what he wants. "I don't like it when you tease me," she growls.

"Yes, you do," he responds, his fingers slipping down as he plucks at her lips. He's got the look. The one he uses when he knows he's got her. The one that's cocky and obnoxious and...completely adorable. His touch is effortless and it makes her squirm. His mouth moves to her ear. "Otherwise it wouldn't make you this wet..."

She reaches for the fastenings on his jeans, her hands brushing against his arousal. "Mmm," she says. "Appears I'm not the only one enjoying this..."

He rolls on his back, bringing her to straddle him. "I'm always ready to go when it comes to you," he says honestly. The mood seems to shift when he slips his hand into her hair and guides her lips to his. "God, all the little ways you turn me on," he mumbles, sitting up. "The ways you make me want you..." Big rough hands massage her thighs with incredible tenderness.

"Show me," she says hotly, quick hands unbuttoning his jeans. The look on his face as she moves on to the zipper causes a noise between a purr and a moan to escape. She licks her lips and watches his eyes darken even more. "I wanna know all of it..."

He gets up, feeling her body move against his. He's not sure he'd ever tire of this - of her. The weight and heat of her breasts pressing against his chest. The softness of her skin. The noises she makes. He strips off his pants and boxers before stealing back to her mouth for another kiss. His tongue teases with hers as his hand cups the back of her neck. The stand pressed together - naked - fighting for control. He pulls back slightly, he breathes, "Not enough time."

Her eyes twinkle. "You're not usually one for false advertising," she chides. "Whatever happened too being able to do a lot in 55 minutes?"

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer. "A lifetime wouldn't be long enough to show you everything."

"Mmm," she hums against his lips, her hands gliding over the smooth, hard muscles of his back. "I guess you had better get started then..."

He licks at her lips playfully. "I thought I already was," he says.

She shoves him softly, a smile curling onto her face and dancing in her eyes. "You know what I want," she husks. "Make love with me, Dean."

He backs her to the bed and lowers her. His thumb strums over her nipple as he kisses her, the combined sensations pulling her hips off of the bed. He shudders, his hand wrapping around the cool tubing of the headboard when her fingers stroke over his shoulders and she wraps a leg around him. He slides into her waiting heat causing them both to cry out. "So good," he breathes against her throat. "Just like..."

She moans as he thrusts more deeply. "If...you...say..." she pants breathlessly, "Apple...pie..."

"What?" he laughs, kissing her shoulder. "What'll happen?"

"I..." He cuts her off with another thrust making her moan. "Will..." He does it again, this time it's shallow and teasing. "Kill..." Back to deep, pushing her closer. "Oh...God...Dean..." she screams.

He buries himself within her. Feels her body fluttering around his, feels her breath catch and her heart hammering against his own. And he waits, giving her just enough time to catch up before he's moving. Shifting, he sends her over the edge again. The old brass bed gives him leverage. It allows him to pull deeper, taking them both to a devastating new height. They crash over the edge together breathing heavily, clinging to each other.

"Just like what?" she pants. "What were you going to say?"

He rolls off of her, a hand resting on his chest as the fingers of the other tangle with hers. "I don't know," he answers, equally out of breath.

"You weren't really going to suggest pie," she teases.

He shifts to his side and looks down into her eyes. "Nah," he says, biting his lip to keep back the smile. His eyes are serious, "It's cheesy chick flick stuff."

"You know, I _am_ a chick..." she informs him. "I think I can handle it."

He kisses her, getting a little embarrassed. "Home," he confesses. "Being with you feels like coming home. Whether it's here or in some crappy motel room."

She sees a slight blush staining his neck. He's still not good with baring his heart. With laying everything out there. And for some reason, that just makes her love him that much more. She opens her mouth to say something just as the timer goes off. "Saved by the bell," she says with a soft kiss. She scrambles out of bed and into her robe.

He watches her on raised elbows, a smile on his face. "Keep looking at me like that, Winchester," she teases. "And this house is liable to burn down with us in it." Shaking her head, she turns to go.

"Hey, Kait?" he calls out to her.

"Yeah, babe?" she answers, stopping to lean against the doorframe.

"I love you," he replies.

She grins at him and tucks her hair behind her ear. "And you'll love me even more after you taste my pie." She darts down the hallway before he has a chance to respond, but she doesn't miss his laughter. It warms her and brings another smile to her lips.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

She pulls the pie from the oven and turns off the stove. She breathes in the spicy sweetness, remembering how much she loves to bake. Humming to herself, she straightens up the mess. The action gives the pie a chance to cool enough to be cut and it gives Dean a few minutes of solitude to process things. In many ways, they're better off together; but in others, she knows he still needs time and, occasionally, space.

Opening the old freezer, she pulls out the vanilla ice cream and works the scoop around in the container before serving it onto a plate. She cuts a large slice of pie - big enough to share - and sets it next to the scoop, watching the steam rise. She sighs grabbing a glass and pouring some milk. She's a woman who knows her man.

She takes the stairs slowly, deliberately. Walking through the door, she pushes it shut with her foot. He licks his lips when he sees her and she stifles a giggle, unsure if the action is controlled by his stomach or his libido. Or, she hopes, _both_. She crosses the room to him, placing the glass on the nightstand and holding the plate just out of his reach. She straddles him, dipping her fingers into the mixture of pie filling and melted ice cream.

He grabs her wrist and sucks her fingers into his hot mouth. He pops them out and kisses her palm. "Pie and Kaitlyn," he husks. "Two great tastes..."

She cuts him off with a forkful of the pastry. He moans and licks his lips. The movement of his tongue is fascinating. It fills her head with dirty thoughts. Thoughts of things that don't involve pie. She tries to cover, putting a forkful into her own mouth, but that makes the situation worse. The pad of his thumb swipes over her lower lip and her tongue darts out to lick the digit just before he hauls her against his chest. His mouth is firm and she sighs into his kiss. She feels the emotion bubbling to the surface. Feels everything he usually struggles to hold back. And she takes action.

"Dean," she purrs, sitting back up in his lap. She guides his hands to her thighs before plucking a piece of fruit out of the shell. She worries her lower lip with her teeth as she trails the sticky slice down the middle of his chest. "When I'm around you I _am_ like pie," she tells him, eyes on her hands rather than meeting his. "You make me sticky and flaky and tender." She laps up the sweet, spicy line, stopping to look into his eyes. "But you're like pie, too," she whispers. "Salty on the surface and sweet and gooey on the inside."

He pulls at the tie on her robe, longing to have her bare. Longing to feel her skin pressed against his. Wanting to make her feel every ounce of what she makes him feel. As he parts the garment, pushing it down over her shoulders, he sighs. "You're torturing me," he tells her.

She squirms against him slightly, feeling the hard length of him beneath the sheet. Her own body responds rapidly and she purrs as his thumbs massage her inner thighs. "I seem to remember someone torturing me earlier," she reminds him.

He chuckles and something in him relaxes in a way she's never seen before. He rubs the back of his neck. "Yep," he answers, "I suppose I was asking for it." He holds the plate in one hand and manages to roll her beneath him in a tangle of sheets and limbs. "Only I didn't make you choose between two of your favorite things."

She watches as he pushes the sheet out of his way. Sucks in air as his skin slips over hers, his lips following in a downward trail. She swallows, her hands fisting in the covers as he rests the plate on her stomach. He kisses her hipbone before moving lower. His tongue and his fingers roam over the creamy expanse of her thighs. "The question," he breathes hotly against her aroused flesh, "Is whether I eat you or the pie first."

He lays over her legs and grabs the fork from the plate. He shovels a few quick bites into his mouth. The moans he makes are slightly exaggerated for her benefit, the vibrations of them rocketing through her body and driving her mad. "This is good," he says, setting the plate aside. He dips his head low, his mouth and tongue cooled by the ice cream moving to taste her. The first pass he makes causes her eyes to slam shut. She can see him licking his lips in her mind and gasps as he strokes over her sweet spot again. She feels him hum against her skin, his lips turning up in a smile. "But it's really no contest," he utters, his fingers replacing his mouth as he moves up to kiss her. "You're definitely sweeter."

She whimpers; her body struggling to get more, to get closer to release. Her breathing is heavy as he nuzzles against her throat. He tugs on her ear lobe, sucking it into his mouth as he feels her getting close. Pulling back, he looks down into her hazel eyes - nearly black with desire - and that's when he gives it to her. Not the kiss she's expecting. Not an _I love you_. His tongue flickers across his lips, lapping at the remnants of her arousal. His teeth scrape over his lower lip. "If it's between you and pie?" he growls, his brows lifting suggestively, "I choose you. Every. Time."

She moans, dragging his mouth to hers and kissing him as if he were air. She breathes him in, her hands roaming over his body seeking to do to him what he'd done to her. To make him weak and needy. To give him what he had given her. That intense feeling - the high, the euphoria. Her hand closes around him as she lays on her side. Her mouth burns kisses over his chest and down to his thighs. She licks and nibbles at his hip before beginning the journey back upward.

"Kait," he squeaks, his voice rising an octave as he struggles to maintain control. "Babe, I...I'm not complaining...but if you ..."

She strokes him again, her elegant fingers supplying the perfect amount of pressure. Her tongue flickers over the taut skin of his abdomen.

He gulps. "Keep that up...I'm gonna...go...off like a roman candle..." he manages while fighting to breathe.

A naughty grin touches her face as she gives him a quick pump. Her hair brushes against his chest, her mouth dangerously close to his nipple. "But, Dean," she protests. "You're just so..." her tongue flickers over his sinfully smooth skin. "Damn." Again. "Lick-able."

He's had enough. He can't take it anymore. He knows he started it. Knows he had it coming. But he doesn't want it to end with her hands. He wants to feel her. Wants - needs - to continue giving her all the pleasure she gives him and more. So he moves over her, pushing her wrists into the pillow above her head, causing her breasts to press into his chest as he takes her saucy, little mouth in a deep kiss.

They moan together as he slides into her. He stays still; kissing her face, her neck. He wants to prolong it. To keep it from being over too soon. He smirks at the way her body responds. At the way she whimpers, longing for more.

She wants - needs - more. Needs everything he's got to give her. So she slides her calf around his as she shifts beneath him in silent offering. In surrender to the man who knows just how to hit the right spots.

And he folds like a deck of cards, because - while he's not always good with emotions - he's good at this. This is the one area he _knows_ he'll never disappoint her. He moves slowly, gritting his teeth and holding his breath as he sets the rhythm. She feels perfect. Tight and hot. Soft and wet. He'll never get enough of this. A tear stings his eye as the thought adjusts - it's not just _this_. He'll never get enough of everything, of all of her. Of the simple things like holding her hand or waking up next to her. Of feeling like he doesn't have to be alone anymore.

She feels the change in his body. Sees the seriousness in his eyes. There's an honesty to his kiss. A weight and depth that are new. She shivers in anticipation of whatever's next. She matches him stroke for stroke, giving back as much as she takes. Waiting. Waiting for what's to come. Trusting. Trusting that this is the beginning of their greatest adventure. Knowing. Knowing they've got each other. And believing. Believing - because she does - that that they always will.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Morning light washes over his tanned skin in streams as the curtains dance in the early summer breeze. The sheets slide low over his hips exposing his washboard stomach, his right calf curls over top of the covers in a relaxed pose. She watches the way his lips part, the rise and fall of his chest, with a smile.

She thinks about how little sleep he got when they first met. How little sleep he often still gets. He smiles and says it's a job hazard, but she knows better. She knows sleep is haunted with memories of things he'd rather forget. Things that he'll never be able to completely let go of no matter how much love she gives him.

So she revels in these moments because it's not often that she awakens first. And when she does, she likes to watch him sleep. To see him completely at peace. Without the weight of the world straining his broad shoulders.

His eyes flutter open. The corner of his mouth curves up as he shifts to his side. His hand slips into her hair. "Hey," he whispers, his voice coarse with sleep. His lips brush hers in a tender caress. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

She snuggles closer, her hands gliding over his warm skin. Rather than answer, she kisses him back. She feels her heart start to beat a little faster as his arms wrap around her, pulling her over him as he lays flat. She laughs softly.

His fingers stroke up her back and he feels her shudder against him. "I love waking up next to you," he murmurs against her mouth.

She smiles at him. "You must think I'm insatiable..." she breathes, her hands roaming his chest. "Mmm, I just can't seem to get enough of you..."

He smiles into her kiss. "I like it," he murmurs. He takes his time. His touch is soft and gentle. He feathers kisses innocently over the line of her jaw. No reason to rush. No demons to chase. No brother to contend with. He can treat her body like the wonderland it truly is. His to explore. His to cherish.

He takes her mouth again, his tongue tickling hers as his hands slide down to her hips. "Kait?" his breath fans over her neck, tongue laps at her pulse point as he rolls her beneath him.

"Hmm?" she answers, arching beneath his skilled touch as his mouth closes hotly over an erect nipple. His thumb flicks over it's mate as her hand creeps into his hair. She feels his mouth moving lower. "You really..." her voice trails into a gasp as she feels the smooth skin of his chest sliding against her body in a downward trail. "Think I can..." she moans when he comes in contact with her navel. "Dean...oh God..."

He teases her with his mouth. Nuzzling his stubbled cheek against her thigh. It's quickly becoming a question of how far to push her before they both ache with physical need. "You know I love you, right?"

She sucks in air, her body struggling to get closer to the pleasure promised by his mouth as her brain fights to sustain the conversation. "Quite well and often," she purrs. "Dean..."

He smiles against her heated flesh. He's almost got her right where he wants her. And then he hears the knock on the door and his eyes slam shut. "Dammit!" he barks. "Go. Away. Sam."

"Look, I know we said we'd leave later in the week, but it's struck again. We should go," Sam fires back.

Dean growls in frustration. "We'll be down soon," he answers. He feels Kaitlyn wriggle beneath him. Feels her pulling him back up. He swallows a moan as her tongue snakes between parted lips to scrape over his nipple.

"How soon?" his brother questions from the other side of the door.

"Sam," he grinds from between clenched teeth. His tone carries warning, the words _back off _don't need to follow his brother's name.

She sighs against his chest. "We should get up and pack," she teases knowing nothing could drag her out of bed. Nothing could tear her away from sharing this moment with him.

"Mmm," he hums, his thumb sliding over her cheek. "We _should_ do a lot of things, babe. And we will. After..." He winds her up. His touch spinning her tighter and tighter. He works her over in tiny, barely-there motions designed to make her quiver. He does it with his eyes. With his fingers, his mouth.

The laugh she feels bubbling within her chest dissolves into a moan as he eases into her. "Dean..." She grabs the brass tubing of the headboard with one hand and uses the leverage to arc her body into his. She pulls him closer. Savors the feel of his skin on her own.

He clings tightly to control, moving slowly. Enjoying the feel of her body. Taking in every throb and moan that comes. Cataloguing everything she makes him feel. "So...mmm..."

She clutches him, pulling him in. Savoring every thrust. Memorizing every little detail. "Oh, yes," she cries out, her fingers tightening around the cool metal. "Oh, God, yes...Dean..."


	2. Season of the Witch

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter 1: Season of the Witch

Dean emerges from the house with their bags to find Sam sitting on the porch swing. His brother gets to his feet and follows him out to the trunk of Kait's Charger.

"Look, Dean, I..." he begins, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"Dude, you're a dead man," Dean deadpans. "I'm so wishing you weren't my brother so I could gank your sorry ass for this," he huffs, his mouth forming a tight and angry line.

"I'm sorry," Sam replies. "Look, I wouldn't have come back until Monday, but we agreed that none of us would try to take on something of this magnitude by ourselves."

"You know she's exhausted. We agreed on a week. One week, Sam. For her birthday," he slams the trunk. "How often do any of us actually take a break?"

"You think I planned this?" he asks, raising his eyebrows. He shakes his head. "No, Dean. I love her, too, okay? Not the way that you do, but I wanted this for her. I still do." He leans against the side of the car. "There's another option," he proffers, "We can do it without her."

"No," Dean growls, crossing his arms.

"Come on," Sam pleads. "We'd only be gone a couple of days. Her birthday's not until the weekend..."

"I said no," he repeats. "I won't leave her, Sammy."

"Damn right you won't," Kaitlyn says as she comes out of the house. She tosses Dean her keys and heads toward the passenger door, sliding her sunglasses to the top of her head. "You ladies done with your little tiff?" she asks with a raised brow as she leans against the roof of the car. "I'd like to get on the road so I can get back to my vacation."

Dean and Sam exchange a look. Dean shakes his head, it tickles him when she goes alpha-female on them. "Jerk," he snorts.

"Bitch," Sam answers.

"Get in the damn car, Sam," he says with a smile, getting into the Charger as his brother climbs behind the wheel of the Impala. "Let's get outta here."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

They've been on the road for just under an hour. Kait rests her feet on the dash and looks at the map. With the tip of her finger, she traces the route to the town Sam mentioned. "Looks like we've got about another hour and a half or so," she tells him, her eyes flickering to the man in the seat beside her.

Dean's jaw is tight, he looks mad at the world. She slides her hand to the back of his neck, rubbing the tension away. "Hey," she says, watching as his fingers flex around the steering wheel. "It'd be a shame for your face to freeze like that," she teases.

He gives her a dirty look. She laughs, the corners of her mouth turning up. "If I'm not mad, why should you be?" she asks him.

"This was supposed to be a vacation. For you. For us," he reminds her. "We'd still be in bed right now. And there's pie..."

He really is adorable. Especially when he pouts. When her hand falls to his thigh, he steals a glance at her. "It'll work out, Dean," her voice is soft like her smile, "We're just postponing it for a few days." He doesn't say anything, but some of the tension in his face goes slack. "Besides, we'll be together. What's the worst that could happen?"

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Walking into the motel room, she glances around and kicks off her shoes. Like most of the stops they've made, the fixtures and furnishings are more than a little dated. Flopping down on the edge of the bed and leaning back, she can't stifle the giggle that escapes as she looks at the lava lamp on the bedside table and feels the shag carpeting beneath her toes. Looking at him, she says, "We've stayed in cheesier."

He laughs and lays down beside her, entwining their fingers. It's getting late and they skipped lunch in favor of making the trip shorter. He feels his stomach growl. "You hungry?" he asks.

"A little bit," she answers, turning to face him, "But I wanna see where Sam's at on the research."

He gives her a quick peck, not spending nearly as much time kissing her as he wants, before getting up. "You go figure that part out, I'll get food and meet you back in his room." He helps her up and hugs her tightly as her lips brush his in a longer kiss. "See you in a little bit?"

She loves the feel of his arms around her, wishes he didn't have to let go. "Yeah," she says with a nod, her hand sliding over his cheek. She tilts her lips up to his for one more kiss. "In a little bit."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean walks into Whiskey River and places a to-go order for sandwiches. While he waits, he sits on a stool at the end of the bar. "Let me get a draft, too," he says to the bartender.

He sits, nursing his beer and minding his own business until he's approached by a female patron. "Well, don't you just look yummy..." she says, coming up to sit beside him.

He looks at all the empty stools down the length of the bar and sets his glass down. He remembers the days when something like this would have excited him. The days when the blonde standing next to him would have been on her back, in his bed, screaming his name in relatively short order. But what brings a smile to his lips is the fact that he has no desire to flirt with this woman. At all. "Stool may not be taken, sweetheart," he tells her. "But I am."

The blonde pouts and bats her big brown eyes at him. "I don't see a ring though," she offers. "And you're here all alone..."

He shakes his head, giving her a once over. There was a time when she'd have been exactly what he was looking for. A little something to take the edge off. That time had long since passed. He watches the way she stretches forward, trying to give him a full view of her cleavage. He sees the pendant that hangs around her neck. and notices a crude tattoo on her wrist.

She rakes her nails up his arm. "We're having a little party tomorrow night," she says as she continues to touch him. "You really oughtta come..."

He pulls his arm away from her as the bartender comes back with his order. "Look..." he waits for her to supply her name.

"Heather," she says with a smile.

"Look, Heather," he starts again. "I'm flattered but no..."

She backs him against the wall, hissing something he doesn't understand under her breath as she does. He wipes at his face, trying to shake it off, to put it behind him. He makes his way back to the motel, thankful in ways he never thought possible that he's not picking up crazies like that anymore.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

When Dean enters the room, Kaitlyn's leaning over Sam's shoulder reading a passage on a website. The two are in deep discussion. "So, if we're right," she says, turning away. "The coven will meet tonight for essentially a pre-game ritual."

Sam turns in the chair. Picking up where she left off, he adds, "And then tomorrow night should be the main event. A gathering where they choose their victims."

Dean looks at the laptop and then at Sam. "I've seen this combination of marks," he says. Heather's tattoo. It was an incomplete pentagram. Portions of the tattoo were added as parts of the initiation ritual were completed. He quickly fills them in.

Kaitlyn shakes her head. "I keep telling you, it's that damn panty-dropping smile of yours," she tells Dean, coming over to stand beside him.

He looks into her eyes. "The only panties I'm interested in dropping are yours," he teases, leaning in to give her a kiss.

"Cute," Sam says, rolling his eyes. "Real cute. You know you have your own room for that," he says, quickly adding, "And we really need to get going if we want to try and catch this ritual."

"Where do you think they'll meet up?" Kaitlyn asks.

"I don't know for sure," he answers, pulling out a map. "But there have been reports of suspicious activities around this clearing, so I'd say that'd be a good start."

Dean tosses each of them a sandwich and opens the wrapper on another. "Eat up, we got work to do."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

"Oh, good lord..." Kaitlyn utters as they near the edge of the clearing. "What is this? The Skin Channel?"

Men and women dance in a circle around a fire pit. They chant, their voices blending with the howling wind that seems to whip around them. They sway like trees, moving and bending. The fire grows brighter, the light becoming more and more intense until the bodies around it become nothing more than sinister shadows.

"Do you recognize any of the incantation?" Sam asks her.

Dean looks back and forth between them. "Well?"

Kaitlyn shushes him as she struggles to listen. "I can't make it out. I need to be closer," she says, leaning around the tree she's using for cover. She turns and slips along the forest's edge. She watches where she steps, careful not to snap a twig or make any sudden moves.

"Kait," there's a tremble in his whisper. He feels it and curses himself. He should have kept her close. He should have been there to hold her back so she wasn't alone. He knows he can't use the light. Knows that doing anything could get them caught. Knows that alerting the coven to their presence means potentially becoming their sacrifice.

"Dean? Kaitlyn?" Sam urges silently. He's cut off in the dark. He can't see either of them. Doesn't know where they are. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They were supposed to stay together. To fight together. As a unit. A family.

She draws closer, ignoring the sounds of Sam and Dean's whispers as they try to call her back, try to keep her from going too far on her own. Suddenly, the firelight flashes hot and bright. It's as though something explodes from the center. The chanting and dancing stop. There's what seems to be blow-back, a ripple-like effect that shakes the earth beneath her feet. Everything goes black.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

A soft rain mists down over him. He feels it on his face as he comes to on a bed of soft grass and dirt. He sits up, rubbing the back of his head. "Sam?" he cries out.

"Dean?" his brother's voice calls back. "Where are you?"

"Sam?" he says as pulls himself up. Pain shoots through his leg as he moves in Sam's direction. He grits his teeth. "I'm over here."

Sam enters the clearing as the rain begins to pelt down on them. He shines a flashlight in Dean's direction.

"Where's Kaitlyn?" he asks, bending over.

"I hoped she was with you..." Sam's voice trails out as his eyes search the clearing.

Dean feels his eyes begin to fill. _This_ was exactly what he was afraid of. Exactly what he was concerned would happen. He couldn't protect her. He couldn't keep her safe. He feels the bile rising in his throat. His lip quivers as his stomach lurches. He forces the feelings that begin to consume him down. "We've gotta find her, Sammy," he says, clutching the front of his brother's shirt.

Sam's hands close around Dean's wrists. "And we will," he answers.

"I can't do it, Sam," the tears begin to fall, lost among the raindrops that smack against his face. "I can't be without her..." Turning, he begins to walk away. "Kaitlyn?"

His cries are swallowed by the howl of the wind. He feels the cold prickling along his spine as he begins to search, pushing brush out of the way. "Kait?" he calls out again.

"Dean?" It's soft. So soft that he almost misses it as the blood pounds in his ears.

"Kait?" He ignores the pain as he seeks out the sound of her voice. When he sees her, he dives to his knees. He wraps himself around her, dragging her into his arms. He kisses her face. "Are you alright?" he asks. His arms leave her as his hands skim over her body looking for injuries.

"I'm fine," she whispers as he checks her over.

"You only say that when you're not fine," he tells her. His voice is desperate. Afraid. His face draws near to hers. His fingers tangle in her wet hair. "God, baby," he mumbles, tears burning over his cheeks. " I thought I lost you..."

"Dean," her eyes glitter with unshed moisture as she looks at him. She places her hands against his firm chest. "I'm right here," she attempts to soothe.

"If anything happened to you..." his voice is rough but when his mouth locks with hers, the caress is tender. His tongue brushes hers as his hands anchor her lips beneath his.

Sam clears his throat. "We might want to get out of this storm," he tells them.

Dean stands and offers Kaitlyn a hand. She winces, nearly falling when she takes a step. Dean catches her and immediately swings her into his arms. His leg burns with the addition of her weight, but he ignores it.

Sam reaches for her. "Dean," he bites. "Let me. You're..."

Dean shakes his head. He needs to have her close. Needs to feel her presence. Her heartbeat. "I've got her." He takes an unsteady breath and begins moving in the direction of the car.

"Dean..." Kaitlyn begins. "I'm fine, I'm just a little banged up I..." She winds her arms around his neck and shifts against him to look at his face. "You're hurt," she says, reading the pain in his eyes.

"The only thing that's gonna hurt me is letting you go," he husks.

She's too tired to argue. She doesn't have it in her to fight, so she tucks her head in the crook of his neck and allows him to carry her back to the Impala.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

_Back at the motel..._

They pull to a stop and Sam looks over at Dean. "Are we gonna talk about what happened out there?" he asks.

Dean shakes his head. "Not tonight," he answers. Sam opens his mouth to protest and is cut off by a stern look. "Sam," he growls. "No. Drop it. We'll talk about it tomorrow. Go research. Surf porn. Do whatever the hell it is you do when we're not around."

Sam cuts the ignition and gets out of the car. He immediately moves toward Kaitlyn's door, managing to get it open before Dean pushes him out of the way.

"Would you quit mackin' on my girl?" the elder brother chuckles, taking Kait's hand as she climbs from the back seat. They wrap their arms around each other, ignoring Sam's rolling eyes. Battered and broken, they limp off to their room.

Dean eases Kaitlyn into a chair and shuffles through their bags before disappearing into the bathroom. She finds it difficult to keep from falling asleep as she waits for him to come back.

He peels his soaked t-shirt from his skin and undoes the buckle on his belt as he makes his way to her. He smiles at the way her long lashes fall to her cheeks, hiding her large, hazel eyes. With quick fingers, he flicks open the buttons of her shirt and tugs it off before working on her shoes.

She's barely able to stand - tired from the trip, tired from the hunt, tired from everything - but allows him to remove her clothing and help her to the shower. Steam surrounds them. He mutters words of comfort as he washes the dirt away, carefully shampooing her hair. Leaning into him, she kisses his chest. The beat of his heart is steady and it makes her feel safe.

She feels the loss when he steps away to turn off the water to reach for the worn terry-cloth towels. He moves gingerly and, through sleepy eyes, she notices the jagged scrapes that cover his left calf. "Oh, baby," she breathes, her hand coming to rest on his cheek.

"I'm fine," he lies. All he wants to do is focus on her, make sure she's taken care of. Make up for his failure.

Tears run over her face. "It's my fault," she says tearfully. Maybe Sam had been right. Maybe she should have stayed behind. "I should never have..."

"Shh," he whispers against her lips. "It doesn't matter..." he tells her, swiping at her eyes with his thumbs. He captures her mouth, but this kiss isn't filled with possession or lust. It's laced with surrender and patience.

He holds up a t-shirt - one of his - for her to put on. She laughs quietly as she slips into the soft fabric. "Are you marking me?" she questions.

He smirks. "I'm starting to think I may have to," he chuckles as he helps her into a pair of panties and pulls on a pair of boxers.

She shakes her head. "Sam was only trying to help," she yawns as the words tumble from her mouth. Her hands cling to his shoulders.

"I think it's time to put you to bed, Sleeping Beauty." His breath catches as he looks at her, standing there in his shirt with dripping hair. He scoops her up and places her between the sheets.

"Night, Dean," she says as she settles against his bare chest.

He strokes a hand up her back. He needs to remind her. To tell her with words. "I love you," he whispers in the darkness, "and I swear I'll make this up to you..."


	3. Don't You Wanna Stay

**A/N:** Many thanks and much love to NattyA (Check out her _Wish You Were Here_ for something truly special_. _I envy her creativity for coming up with such an original idea!) for pointing out that Kait deserves to have her backstory told. I will. I promise. For now, I've added a few details that I hope will help answer some questions.

Thank you to my friend and con-conspirator **stephaniew **for betaing. You would not be reading this if it wasn't for all Steph's encouragement (not to mention getting me to watch and write for _Supernatural_ in the first place!). Look her up and be sure you have a fire hose or ice handy...she likes to turn up the heat!

Got Twitter? I'm MaliBearsBuddy. I've had hashtags for some of my previous stories and it's been lots of fun...#MonsterMondays anyone? ;)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural_ or _Don't You Wanna Stay_...both are borrowed in good fun and without profit.

Chapter 2: Don't You Wanna Stay

It's about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. They sit around the table in Sam's room. They've been at it for hours. Pouring over old books and internet articles, reading everything they can find.

Finally, Sam slams his book. "Are we gonna talk about last night?" he asks. Dean sets his book down and Kaitlyn stops pacing. Neither says a word. He knows what they're avoiding. Knows _why _they're avoiding it. "Dean?"

"I got nothin'," his brother responds, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

Kaitlyn lets out the breath no one realized she was holding. She worries her lip with her teeth. She's not going to make Sam do the dirty work. "Babe," she says, walking over to Dean, her eyes filled with sadness. "You know you're out for this one."

"What?" he says, looking at her as though she's lost it.

Sam shakes his head. "Kait's right," he quickly agrees. "You've been made, Dean. We can't risk it. We don't know for sure that this Heather person isn't a member of the coven we're after. All the facts line up. The symbols match and..."

"Come on," Dean says. "I didn't see her last night. And besides, when has that stopped us before?"

Kait tries to touch him, to soothe the hurt and smooth things over. "Dean," she says seriously. "Get over it. You're out. We've never dealt with anything quite like this before. It's a fertility ritual to expand the bloodline of the coven. This is some pretty freaky stuff. Human sacrifice..."

"All the more reason you need my help," he says, getting to his feet. "Last night scared the hell out of me," he confesses. "I wanna get this done so we can just move on and..."

"Do you think it didn't scare _me_?" she yells. "You think that _I_ wasn't worried about _you_?" She paces again, chewing on her thumbnail. She stops and glares at him. "It's not worth the risk." When he remains unconvinced, she gestures to to the way he bears slightly more weight on his right foot. "Jesus Christ, Dean, look at your leg. You put yourself at risk and..."

"And I'd do it again," he growls at her, getting in her face.

"You always forget I'm not some helpless cocktail waitress!" she bites back. "I've been doing this almost as long as you have. I did it _alone_ for more than eight years after my parents died. I don't need to be coddled," she snaps in a harsh but level tone as she pokes his chest firmly. "I'm tired of having this same goddamn fight over and over again. I thought we were past it. I thought we'd..."

"We said we'd have each other's backs. That we'd protect each other," he hisses, pointing his finger at the floor as he outlines their agreement. "Cutting me out doesn't..."

"Damn it, Dean," Sam interrupts getting in between them. "Don't you get it? We're trying to protect you." Taking a deep breath, he lays out his plan of attack. "They're looking for a couple. We'll go in undercover, take it out from the inside. It'll be quick and we can get back..."

"No, Sam," he says angrily. "What you're talking about is...it's insane." He grabs his car keys and raises a hand. His lip quivers in a snarl and he shakes his head. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to watch you use her as bait. How could you, Sammy? How could you even think about this? You're my brother..."

He storms out, the door rattling against the frame as he slams it. They hear the roar of the Impala in the parking lot, gravel crunching beneath its tires.

Kaitlyn flinches as though she's been struck. Emotionally she has.

"We can take a break," Sam offers.

She pulls herself together. "No," she says. "We've got work to do. We've got to figure out as much as we can so that we're prepared. I can't worry about him right now. I..." she turns her head up to the ceiling, trying to will her eyes to stay dry. Trying to hold everything back.

The far away look says she's fronting. They've been friends for too long and he knows her better than she likes to think. He wraps an arm around her, pulling her into a quiet hug. She leans against him and he hears her sigh. When she pulls away, he pretends he doesn't see the tears. Pretends he doesn't know how badly she's been hurt.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

They're sitting in a corner booth having drinks at Whiskey River. Kait looks at the door for the fifth time in 20 minutes before turning back to Sam. "I don't think he's coming," she says sadly. "This whole thing...I..." She downs the shot of whisky in front of her quickly and wipes the back of her knuckles over her lips. "Maybe he's right Sam. Maybe we're in over our heads..."

Sam reaches across the table and takes her hands in his larger ones. He's got to get the situation under control - with or without Dean. If he doesn't, everything Dean's afraid of will happen. Kaitlyn won't be safe. "We can do this, Kait. Before you know it, you'll be back home and y'all will finish your vacation. Everything will be fine. He'll get over it," he tells her. "He always does."

"Will he?" she asks, her eyes falling to the table. Pulling her hands away, she reaches for the empty shot glass in front of her. "We've fought before - hell, we've even walked out on each other - but I've never seen him like that," she lets out a frustrated little growl. "Ugh, I can't take this. It wasn't supposed to be like this and now... Now, I just..." She gets up from the table. "I'll be back," she says. "I just need one more drink."

Sam watches her walk to the bar. He slams his fist into the table and leans his head back. The situation sucked. Huge. He doesn't know what to do. How to handle it. More appropriately, how to handle her. How to take care of her for Dean. Sure, they've looked out for each other. He knows she's got his back - in fact, after Dean there wasn't anyone he trusted more. But this? This is different. He doesn't like being between them. It isn't right.

Dean enters the bar. He makes his way toward the table and slides in across from his brother. He doesn't say anything and, for a moment, Sam just stares at him.

Finally, Sam breaks the silence. "Where the hell have you been?"

Dean shakes his head. "I needed to think," he answers. His eyes drift to where Kait stands at the bar. They travel over the tight blue jeans that mold to her long legs and smooth over her hair as she tosses it over her shoulder.

"So, tell me," Sam says, disapproval flickering in his eyes, "What'd you accomplish by leaving this time, huh, Dean? Besides making us worry you'd gone off and done something stupid."

Dean watches as her as she leans against the bar and waits. Watches the little tells - how she rubs her hands against her legs, tucks her hair behind her ears. She's nervous, uncomfortable. She fidgets when she's upset - playing with her mother's ring or her hair, smoothing out wrinkles that aren't there with sweaty palms. Turning back to the man across from him, he says, "It doesn't matter."

Sam shakes his head. "Like hell it doesn't," he scoffs, "She almost gave up. She was willing to back down because you weren't comfortable with the situation." Both brothers look at the woman in question. "You're ridiculous," Sam fumes, leaning back against the leather seat and resting his hands on his thighs. "She's the best damn thing that ever happened to you - hell, to both of us - and you seem determined to fuck it up."

Dean's eyes go wide and he scowls. "Shut your cake hole," he says abruptly. "You both know how I feel about her."

"Then act like it," Sam bites back. "Quit running out on her and stop acting like she can't take care of herself." Sam's eyes flicker back to the bar. When it comes to Dean, Kait can't hide her feelings. He can read them in her eyes. She looks at Dean the way Jessica used to look at him. "She loves you," he says longingly. "Don't waste it."

Dean looks down. He knows Sam is right. He and Kait have had this fight time and again and he hasn't listened to her. Hearing it from his brother changes things. It makes it sink in.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she says, handing each of the boys a beer as she takes a seat next to Dean. "It's crowded, huh?" she attempts casually, watching the look at passes between the brothers. Nervous at the silence, she takes a gulp from her bottle. "I can leave if two you are having one of your moments," she teases in effort to break the tension.

Sam covers with a small smile and settles back in his seat. He takes the beer and stares down at the label. "So, we don't have a ton of time before we'll need to get going," he reminds them.

Dean looks at Kait, touches her face before taking her hand. "Could you give us a minute, Sammy?" he asks, his eyes falling to Kait's lap.

"Yeah, sure," he says, scrambling to get up. "I'll just..." he points off to the side, dipping his head low and moving quickly away when they ignore him.

Dean raises his eyes to look at her.

"I'm sorry," they say in unison.

"Kait, I just..." he starts.

"Dean, I..." she begins.

He hushes her with a finger to her lips. She watches as his tongue slips out to moisten his own. "I'm sorry I walked out. You're right. You can take care of yourself...and I need to learn to respect that."

She sighs, squeezing his fingers. "But I was wrong, too. Y'all mean everything to me. Sam's like a brother and you..." her voice trails off and she looks down at their joined hands. "I never thought I could feel this way about anyone..."

He tilts her chin up so he can look into her eyes. "You think we'll ever figure it out?" A slow song comes on the old jukebox and Dean's lips hover over hers. "Dance with me," he murmurs.

Their eyes meet and she feels his hand tighten around hers. "Dean?"

"Dance with me," he repeats. Suddenly, he needs to hold her in his arms. To feel her head resting on his chest.

The words grip his heart. _I really hate to let this moment go. Touchin' your skin and your hair fallin' slow._ He doesn't want to let her go. He wants to hold her, to feel her skin beneath his hands. To feel her warmth in his arms.

She stands up and lets him guide her to the floor. They sway together. She's close enough that he can feel the hammering of her heart. As he breathes in the soft scent of her shampoo, he wonders why he hasn't done this more often. He thinks about all the opportunities he's missed. In a voice soft and low, he sings along and feels her draw closer. "Don't you wanna stay here a little while? Don't you wanna hold each other tight? Don't you wanna fall asleep with me tonight?"

The though of kissing her good-bye and watching her walk away - even temporarily - is unbearable. She feels perfect in his arms and all he wants to do is curl up with her, hold her and block out the world. He wishes things were that easy. That they could be normal. That they could have forever. His lips brush feather-light over hers. His fingers slip into her hair. "Come back to me," he whispers softly against her lips.

As the music fades out, other couples leave the floor. She's reluctant to be out of his arms, but she knows she and Sam need to be on their way. "Dean," she says softly, "The music's stopped."

He leans down and fuses his lips to hers. His hand caresses her face as he pulls away. "I don't need music," he tells her. "I've got you."

"Dean, I've gotta go," she says, her eyes sad as their hands find each other.

"I know," he says softly, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. "Be safe," he reminds her. As they reach Sam, he grabs his brother's arm. "Take care of her, Sammy," his tone is commanding, but his eyes hold a silent plea. Sam nods.

Kait kisses Dean's cheek and trails her fingers down his arm. "Wait up for me," she whispers softly.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Sam steers the Charger onto an old dirt road partially hidden from view by towering oaks and thick brush. "Okay," he says, wanting to pull her away from gazing out the window and remind her of the case. "So, we've decided this appears to be part of some mating or fertility ritual, right?"

She rubs her finger, suddenly wishing she had worn her mother's ring. Nodding, she adds, "Only instead of choosing a couple to sacrifice, they use a pair of singles, forcing them together with the use of hypnotic herbs before piercing them through their hearts at the height of their climax."

"Stay close," he tells her, taking her hand as the walk toward the entry. "I don't want to end up separated."

She smiles. She knows the drill. Knows that getting separated here could be fatal. She bites back a snarky comment and, instead, winks at him. "Sugar, there's no way I'm lettin' you outta my sight," she drawls, bumping her shoulder into his arm.

"You ready for this?" he whispers, his mouth in a tight smile as his brows furrow.

"Are we ever _really_ ready?" she answers. Being without Dean feels wrong, but she doesn't have to say that. Sam knows. She can see it in his posture.

He sees a man sitting at a banquet table, a woman nearly pouring wine down his throat. The male half of the sacrificial pair has been chosen. Only the female half remains.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Sitting alone in the booth was unnerving, so he moved to the bar when they left. Shifting to the bar also meant shifting drinks. Now he's drinking whiskey and he can't seem to down it fast enough.

He'd seen the worry in both pairs of eyes when they walked out. He'd to bite back the urge to beg her not to go. To suggest Sam could handle it and they'd back him up from a distance. He slings back the bourbon and stares into the empty glass. He looks at his watch wondering how long they'll be, eager to have her in his arms again.

"Well, hello again, Tiger," he hears the voice before he sees her and attempts to plaster a friendly look on his face. It's the blonde from yesterday. "Saw your girl leave with another guy." She sits down on the stool beside him and crosses her legs, the movement causing her tiny skirt to ride up.

He doesn't know why he feels the need to justify to a stranger, but he does anyway. Giving her a lopsided grin, he says to her, "That was my brother, sweetheart. They're working."

She leans on the bar and bats her eyes at him, flashing an ample amount of cleavage as she rests her chin on her hand. "What do y'all do?" she asks.

He gives her a stock answer, "We're investigators." He smiles as the bartender refills his glass.

"And you're like the Three Musketeers or something?" she asks, her bubbly voice beginning to grate on him. It frays the last nerve he has.

"Something like that," he says, taking a slug of his drink.

"Lucky me, it's your night off," she giggles, stroking a hand over his forearm. She scratches at him slowly, lightly. The color of her eyes has begun to deepen. She sticks out her lower lip in a pout. "But not so lucky for you I'm afraid..."

He takes a step away from her, a hand scrubbing over his face. He feels himself start to drift, his legs wobble like they're made of Jell-O. The tone of her voice levels out. "They aren't working tonight," she says. "They abandoned you on purpose. To be alone." She takes a step toward him and leans in close to his ear. "It's been their plan all along, Dean. If you don't believe me, you should go and see for yourself..."

The words that fall from her parted lips send him running for the door. Running for the Impala. The roar of the engine fills the air as he guns it. Pedal to the floor, he feels the back tires skidding as he races out of the lot. Hurrying to find answers. Praying that she's wrong. But most of all, hoping. Hoping that he's not too late.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

When he arrives at the barn, he watches them from the shadows. He hates more than anything that he's been forced to sit this one out. That he's watching his brother and his girlfriend work together. Without him.

They find a spot, dancing and twirling with the other patrons. They dance across the sawdust and straw covered floor. _Twirl. Side-step. Shuffle. Step, step. Twist. _Sam dips Kait and they both laugh.

As Dean watches her he can't help but smile. Her movements are fluid and graceful. He looks at Sam. Watches the way his brother's hands stay - as always - right where they should.

The two of them dancing is nothing new. They dance all the time. In fact, he enjoys seeing the freedom that spreads across their faces when they glide together. He loves seeing her so carefree. Loves seeing Sam smile. Loves that for a few moments the strain of hunting is lifted from them. It's something he cherishes - seeing the two people he loves most in the world at peace.

It's always like this - something upbeat and fast moving. Sam has often joked that the difference of almost a foot in height makes her a fun dance partner for some of the more active dances - like swing. But she always saves the slow ones for him. He regrets that it took Sam pointing it out, that he couldn't see it for himself. That he didn't hold her all the times she needed to be held.

The music changes. The soft strains of a country love song he doesn't recognize hit his ears. His smile fades. Shock and disappointment fill his chest when Sam reaches for her hand as she moves away. He watches her smile. It's the one that makes him weak in the knees. The one that lights her entire face and shines from her eyes. The smile that, until now, he thought was just for him.

He's even more stunned when Sam spins Kaitlyn into his arms and crushes his lips over hers. Instead of pulling away she sighs, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. Sam's hands slide all too easily into the back pockets of her fitted blue jeans, dragging her closer.

Disgusted, he turns away. Unwilling to see what would happen next. Unable to watch their betrayal any longer.


	4. Suspicious Minds

**A/N: **Here we are with our first official #MonsterMonday! Hope this will perk up the start of your week the way it does for me.

Why did Sam kiss Kait? Read on to find out...

Many thanks to my pal and fellow writer, **stephaniew**. Are you reading her stuff? If not, you should be. ;)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter 3: Suspicious Minds

It's nearing 1 am when Sam and Kaitlyn walk into the motel room. They're laughing together and, as she pulls the key from the lock, she says, "Did you see the look on his face? It was almost..." Her voice trails off and her smile fades.

Dean, who has been pacing the room like a caged animal, lunges at his brother. "You son of a bitch!" he yells, his fist connecting with Sam's jaw and toppling him to the floor. "How could you?"

Kait puts herself in between the two men. "Oh, my God! What the hell has gotten into you?" she screams. Turning to Sam as he stands, she touches his face. "Are you okay?"

"And you," he says, reaching for her. "I..."

Sam puts a hand on Dean's chest and pushes him away from Kait. "Lay a hand on her and I swear you'll live to regret it."

"You're my brother, Sammy," he says hotly. "How could you do this to me?"

Sam stares at Dean. Confusion floods his features as his mouth falls open. He looks at his brother as if he's gone mad and then at the woman standing beside him.

Kaitlyn brushes her chestnut hair behind her ears. She looks back and forth between them, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "I got this, Sam," she says, her eyes falling to Dean. Shaking her head, she tells him, "You're out of control. I don't know what your problem is."

"Oh, yeah?" he bites back. "And just how was I supposed to react to what I saw? Did you think I'd enjoy watching you kiss my brother?"

Sam chuckles and shakes his head. "Are you serious?" he asks, running a hand through his hair. "That's what this is about?"

Kait's hand covers her face. "Wow," she adds simply. Cocking her head and raising an eyebrow, she says, "You do realize we were undercover, right?"

Dean crosses his arms and stares at them. "You want to explain how having my brother's tongue halfway down your throat is a necessary part of being undercover? Because I'm just not seeing it," he snarls.

She's in his face now. It doesn't matter that he's taller and broader than she is. It doesn't matter that he's spoiling for a fight. She's not backing down. She never does. Being this close, she can smell the whiskey on his breath. She can feel the heat of his body and hear the pounding of his heart.

"You know what, Dean? You wanna take this out on me?" she says, her jaw tightening and her hazel eyes burning with fury. "Fine, do your worst. I dare you. But Sam's your brother and I refuse to be what drives you two apart."

Dean closes the gap between them. His fingers slide into her hair. She doesn't flinch or drop her eyes from his. "Tell me," his tone now deadly calm as he breathes her in, "Does he do this to you?"

He captures her mouth forcefully, his tongue plundering against hers. Pulling back, he swipes her kiss swollen lips with his thumb as she pants. "Does he make you feel the way I do?" he rasps, his voice raw with pain. He seals his lips to hers again, this time more tenderly. Silently pleading with her to tell him he's right.

She pushes at him, the realization that they aren't alone becoming more apparent as Sam clears his throat uncomfortably. She struggles to catch her breath, to calm the storm of emotions that rage just below the surface. She squeezes her eyes shut to keep the tears from falling.

"Go," Dean growls at Sam.

Kait shivers, partly from the lust that now courses heavily through her but also from something else. Fear. She's never been afraid of Dean before. Afraid _for_ him, afraid _of _a situation. But never _of _him.

Taking a stumbling step backwards, she shakes her head. "Stay," she says. "Take care of him, Sam..." Her voice fails as she struggles to hold back the moisture building beneath her lids. "I can't..." Grabbing her jacket and the keys to the Charger, she bolts. Hurrying from the room without looking back.

She needs to think. To be free of him. To escape the tidal wave of heady emotions she feels the instant she gets anywhere near him. To avoid the way his touch dances over her skin spreading wildfire through her veins. The sweet longing that swells in her body when he looks at her with those emerald eyes.

Right now she has half a mind to pack it in. To tear off the rearview mirror and never look back. But she's left her bag and her gear behind. She's left her mother's ring. Far more than that, she's left her heart.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

"Way to go, Dean," Sam spits. He rakes a hand through his shaggy, brown hair and leans against a chair at the small table. "You scared the hell out of her."

Dean shows no emotion. He stands still, staring blankly at the door.

Sam looks out the ancient blinds, watching as the dark blue car peels out of the lot. "I've never seen Kaitlyn so spooked."

"Why'd you do it?" he grinds, his eyes glowing with a fierce intensity Sam's never seen before.

"You were there," replies Sam, his eyebrows shooting almost to his hairline. "Didn't you see them?"

"I told you what I saw - my own brother kissing and groping the woman I love." The anger hasn't faded, instead it grows. It burns hot in Dean's gut, quickly spreading violently through him.

"We were playing a part," Sam yells back. "God, do you really think I would do something like that? This isn't a game," he says, poking his brother in the chest. Daring to step closer, he adds. "I did it to protect her."

"Protect her from what? How was a kiss gonna save her?"

"It protected her from being chosen," he instructs. "I marked her to keep her from becoming part of their sacrifice, Dean," his voice rising, Sam begins to tell their story.

~~~~Supernatural~~~~

There've been eyes on them since they walked into the barn. He's been on high alert while, at the same time, attempting to only have eyes for Kait. If anything happens to her, he knows Dean will kill him. He clings to her hand as they mingle among the others, trying to pick out the hosts from the guests.

He takes her onto the dance floor, his heart sinking. The country two-step should have been fun. Dancing with her was a playful extension of their brother-sister bond. It normally put them both at ease. But she's stiff in his arms, every bit as much on the hunt as he is. He knows her awareness is also heightened.

In spite of everything she's been through, he sees the innocent glow in her eyes. He sees what he knows has Dean so wrapped up in her - the magical zest she has for life. It should be his brother here tonight. Kait would be far safer with the protection of Dean's feelings for her. Lovers separated from each other's touch might as well have been singles without the mark of rings to bind them.

Sam feels as much as sees their eyes on her. He watches tongues skim across lips as the music slows and the pace of the dancing changes. When she pulls away from him, he knows it's out of instinct - they never dance the slow ones. She dances the slow ones with Dean because they're more intimate. Because it doesn't feel right for him to hold her in that way. It's a habit that could cost them dearly now.

Improvising, he grabs her hand and tugs her back into his arms. She smiles at him, but her eyes hold questions. Questions he knows he can't answer with words. With his own eyes, he begs for understanding. Hoping - praying - she'll forgive him.

Naked trust flashes in hazel depths. Her lids flutter closed as he presses his lips to hers. He knows it has to look convincing, a chaste kiss isn't going to throw them off. His mouth parts over hers and her hand cups his cheek, giving them protective cover. He slips his hands into her pockets, drawing her closer and she sighs. He releases her on a ragged breath and takes her hand as though to drag her into a darkened corner.

Their eyes no longer focused on her, relief tinged with regret floods him. He knows he did the right thing. Knows it was to save her. But that doesn't change the fact that he feels he's let Dean down. Again. That he feels as though he's guilty of a betrayal he never meant to commit. Guilty of touching the one thing of Dean's that he shouldn't have - Kait.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

She slips onto a stool at Whiskey River. Before getting out of the car, she had carefully blotted her eyes and tried to clean herself up. She makes eye contact with the bartender and he steps down to her. Without asking what she wants he pulls a shot glass and splashes two fingers of amber liquid into the vessel. He watches as she throws it right back.

Her face mashes and she shakes her head. "God, that burns," she says as she sets the glass on the bar top. "Thanks, Billy."

He polishes a glass and tosses the towel over his shoulder as he places it with the others. He remembers this little spitfire from earlier in the night, but she wasn't by herself. "Alone this time?" he asks thoughtfully.

She tilts the glass back and forth between her hands, watching the tiny bead of whiskey slide around the bottom. "Needed to think," she answers after a lengthy pause.

"What'd he do?" he asks, unsure of why he feels the need to be a father figure to the young woman.

Her smile is rueful. "He'd say it was my fault."

"This have to do with that other fella that came in with y'all?" It's a slow night, so he pushes her a bit.

She tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear and heaves a sigh. "It's nothing," she answers, scrunching up her nose.

He shrugs in surrender before sloshing more whiskey into her glass. "Bourbon isn't gonna fix anything, darlin'," he tells her.

"I know," she answers, pulling a pair of bills from her wallet. "I know I need to quit running, but I just..." Things were occasionally rocky with Dean, but denying her feelings was pointless. She was going to have to get to the bottom of this. Running wasn't going to do anything other than make them both crazy.

Billy nods. She doesn't have to say any more than that. He watches her as she hops off the stool.

"See you around," she says as she walks away.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

The sky opens up on her as she turns into the motel lot. Getting out of the car, she walks to her room. The lights are out. All is quiet. Maybe he's gone. Maybe she'll have peace to think things over.

She opens the door, not bothering with the light. She knows how many paces it is to the bathroom. A hot shower would do wonders.

She sees the glow of his eyes in the moonlight before he pulls the chain on the lamp, illuminating the room. She shivers in her damp clothes, but says nothing. She stands her ground before him. She hasn't done anything wrong.

He stands and approaches her. She's wary as he circles her and tugs off her soaked jacket. Coming to a stop in front of her, he grabs her blouse and rips it open, sending the tiny buttons scattering across the carpet. She gasps, but remains motionless.

The heat of his breath and hands warm her chilled body as he caresses her. He presses his lips to her throat as he removes her ruined clothing. "Mine," he husks, his hands smoothing over the lace separating his touch from the bare skin her heaving breasts.

He stretches his arms over head and strips his t-shirt off. When they touch skin-to-skin, he feels goosebumps break out as she comes in contact with his heat. His mouth slides over hers in a searing kiss as his nimble fingers seek the clasp of her bra. He wants her completely naked, his to explore.

Bending, he hitches her legs up around his waist. His mouth closes around the puckered nipple that brushes against his cheek. A quick flickering of his tongue against the aching bud earns a throaty moan and causes him to stagger. They slam against the door. "I hate it when you leave," he confesses, his lips attaching to her other breast and giving it the same attention.

She arcs into his waiting mouth, unable to respond with more than a whimper as he grinds against her.

"I want you," he rasps, hungry hands greedily seeking purchase on her soft flesh. "All of you," his tongue dances against hers, a hand tangling in her wet hair as the other cups her firm bottom. God help him, she was a drug. An addiction that made him weak and needy.

"Dean," she pants against his lips, her own hands tracing over the muscular lines of his back. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to be talking about it. But, God help her, he felt so right. Felt so right she was incapable of resisting.

Before she can think, he's pressing her into the bed. He's plotting a course over her body in steamy, open-mouthed kisses and nibbling at spots he knows are sensitive. He's overpowering her senses, making her forget what they were fighting about.

Blood pounds in her veins. She feels her body temperature rising with every kiss. Each caress making her squirm beneath him. Warmth pools between her thighs. Her traitorous body is his for the taking.

And it's as if he knows or senses it in some way. A little too forcefully, he tears her jeans and her panties down. He mutters a curse as they catch at her feet because of his haste.

He kisses her ankle, placing it over his shoulder before slipping his mouth down to her calf. Pausing, his eyes bore into hers intently. "I'm going to make you forget every man who has ever touched you," he growls.

As if she could remember her own name, let alone the touch of any man other than the one whose hands controlled her body right at that moment. Sweet Mary, mother of God...the memory of the ways and places Dean has touched and taken her before vanish at the way he's handling her tonight. "God..."

This time he doesn't correct her. He does tell her that she can call him Dean. Tonight it's serious. There are no laughs, no tenderness. Only passion and a fire that threatens to consume them both. "Mmm," he hums against her thigh as he leans down over her. "The things I want to do to this gorgeous body." His hand ghosts over her abdomen, her muscles tensing at the timbre of his voice. He strokes her with his fingers as he kisses her hip. "All the things I'm going to make you feel..."

She bucks against his hand, his body coming to rest on top of hers as he continues his assault. He takes her mouth, kissing her deeply as his fingers work. She claws at his back, her nails scraping along his spine. Her body stings with need for him.

His lips find her ear as he feels her body clamping around his fingers. "Have I told you how hot it makes me to turn you on?" he asks, his tone as measured as his strokes. "Mmm," he moans softly, "I love making you wet..."

His voice is her undoing. She cries out incoherently, fingers gripping the sheets beneath her violently. When he leaves her, she twists and whimpers at the loss of his touch, the feel of his body against hers. She's reassured by the gentle snake of his zipper.

When he comes back to bed, he slides against her. Their bodies rubbing together with torturous friction. He slips an arm beneath her head and looks into her eyes. "Tell me you want me," his tone is rough, his breath scorches her cheek. "Tell me you want to feel me inside you." His hand strokes down to her hip, his eyes meeting hers.

She struggles to find the words. To beg him to take her, to fill her. It's all she can do to keep breathing as she stares up into his smoldering eyes. A puff of air escapes her in a whine.

He licks his lips, a wicked glint in his eyes. "Tell me, Kaitlyn," he moans, shifting against her in a tempting stroke.

Her hands find the curve of his hips as she moves beneath him. Wrapping a leg around his, she offers herself completely. "Please," she whispers, her voice so hoarse with desire she almost doesn't recognize it. "I need you," she purrs. "I need to feel you..."

He thrusts deeply, his weight falling against her as she takes him in. His mouth finds hers as he begins to move. They cling to one another, tension between them growing with every shift. "Love the way you feel, babe," he says, the fingers of one hand tangling with hers and bringing her arm over her head. She arches against him in response. "The way you fit around me," he moves slowly.

"Yes!" she screams, her hands pulling him closer as pleasure washes over her. "Mmm," she whimpers. "Harder..."

He smirks, burying his face against the crook of her neck. He hitches her leg up slightly and increases the downward angle of his thrusts. He grits his teeth as she clamps around him. His not ready for this to be done. He feels her shaking, her body rippling beneath his. He changes rhythm, varying pace to delay his own climax.

"Dean..." she moans, shuddering again as her nails dig into his shoulders. "Oh..."

"So good," he husks, caressing the thigh wrapped around him. "So damn good..." He feels the pressure building, a delicious ache that spreads down to his toes. His control slips as the movement of his hips quickens, his pace is relentless.

Her lips brush softly over the tattoo on his chest. He drops his head to her neck. "Kait..." he moans, his teeth sinking into her shoulder.


	5. Hey Jealousy

**A/N:** It's another #MonsterMonday! The morning after. What's causing Dean's aggressive behavior? You're about to find out...

Many thanks to everyone who has shown an interest in this story. Don't be afraid to drop me a line...unlike Dean, I don't bite. ;)

Have you checked out my pal and beta **stephaniew**? If you like it hot, head on over to her kitchen and see what's cookin'...you won't be sorry!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter 4: Hey Jealousy

As dawn's elegant fingers reach through the blinds, Dean stirs. He looks at the woman sleeping beside him. Her hair is a tangled mess and she shivers from lack of cover. He sees the bruise beginning to form on her shoulder and the events of the previous night come screaming into focus.

Had he really been that brutal and forceful with her? Tears prick his eyes because he knows the answer. That isn't the man he is - the man he wants to be - when he's with her. He tucks the covers around her and dresses quickly. There has to be a way to make it up to her. A way to keep her from leaving. To show her he's sorry, that he never wanted to hurt her.

On the way out he runs into Sam. "Dean," he calls out, hurrying to reach him.

He grins at his brother, whistling as he sees the shiner beneath his eye. "Get into a fight last night, Sammy?"

Sam's face washes with confusion. "You did this," he reminds him. "You punched me when..."

Suddenly, it all comes back. Everything. Down to the drink he had in the bar where he had...

"It was another demi-god, Dean," he says. "I haven't quite figured it all out yet, but I think..."

Dean shakes his head. "Jealousy?"

Sam runs a hand through his hair, his face twists in a look of concern. "I think so. It's the best I can figure out, but..."

Dean leans against the roof of the car, his head hanging low as he stares at his feet. "There may be more to it than that. Dammit. How...?"

"From what I can tell, this thing feeds on emotion," Sam continues. "It probably...wait. You say there may be more to it? How much more? What are we talking about here, Dean?"

"Gee, Sammy, have you caught a look at your face? Let's try rage." He takes in a ragged breath. Thinks about the other ways he's been affected. Thinks about all the things that he can't tell Sam. The things that are private. The things that he and Kaitlyn will have to work out on their own. The things he _hopes_ they'll be able to work out on their own. "I don't know what else," he lies. Shuffling his feet, he drags open the car door. "So much for getting outta Dodge, huh? I guess we're stuck here."

"Looks like it," Sam agrees. "Dean, I'm sorry. We'll figure this out. I know this wasn't part of the plan..."

Dean licks his lips, worrying the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Just figure it out, Sam. Do that thing that you do, okay?" With a sigh, he starts the car. "I'm gonna go get breakfast."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Dean slips back into the motel room with a smile. He glances over at the bed to see Kaitlyn still curled beneath the covers. Carrying the Starbucks cup and pastry bag, he moves silently to her side of the bed. Popping the lid from the cardboard cup, he holds it where she'll catch the aroma of the steaming caramel macchiato and waits.

She stretches languidly and sighs, hazel eyes blinking rapidly. "I smell coffee," she mumbles, her voice sleepy.

He smiles at her as she rubs her eyes and scoots to sit against the headboard. Hit by a sudden view of her skin, he remembers that she's naked and it makes him surprisingly uncomfortable. He sets his prizes on the table beside the bed and pulls off the t-shirt that covers his torso without shifting from his position beside her. He holds it out to her in speechless offering.

Kaitlyn's brow furrows as she accepts the garment. She tugs it over her head, letting it fall to cover her. Dean's scent and the warmth that clings to it, protectively envelope her. It makes her feel special. Loved.

He can't keep his eyes from caressing her breasts as the shirt covers them. He longs to touch her. To make amends for what he did the night before. He feels like freaking Tarzan with all the grunting and handing her things. He knows he needs to talk to her. To clean up the mess.

She picks up the cup and sips the drink. She moans softly as the taste of the coffee with it's sweet, salty caramel syrup slips over her taste buds. Her eyes dance as her tongue snakes over her upper lip to lap away the foam that covers it.

He growls and stands up, his hands coming to the back of his neck. His senses are still heightened. He struggles with the urges that course through him. He thought this was over, that he had gotten through it last night. That it would no longer effect him.

She reaches for the sack and pulls out a box. She grins tearing off a piece of the gooey cinnamon bun. "This is amazing," her sleep sultry voice sends a current of electricity down his spine. She innocently licks the sugary icing from her fingers and his body aches in response to the vision.

Primal energy coursing through him, he practically pounces on her. With a hot mouth and scorching tongue, he takes over the quest to clean her up. The spicy cinnamon tickles his senses, but it is Kaitlyn's own sweetness that incapacitates him. She pulls back to look at him, her hand coming to rest against his stubbled cheek. He places a sucking kiss on her pulse point that quickly turns to a gentle scraping teeth.

He forces himself away from her. He needs to protect her. Needs to keep her safe from whatever monster it is that consumes him. He wants to devour her. To do nothing but feel her supple body beneath his. To take her over and over again until neither of them can breathe. To possess her and mark her as his alone.

The tears come when he remembers that he's already done that. When he remembers that she bears the mark of his bite on her shoulder like a brand. That he's hurt her. That he attacked her savagely the moment she walked into the room.

He bolts to the bathroom and locks the door. Out of her sight, the tears flow freely. He doesn't recognize himself in the mirror. His eyes are dark and hollow. A strangled sob escapes him as he turns on the shower. His chest burns from the weight of what he has done to her - to them. The pain of shattered trust stabs at his gut. Leaning against the shower wall, he lets the icy droplets fall over his back. They numb the pain and dampen the arousal. Tears slip down the drain, another part of Dean Winchester lost to the world.

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

Kaitlyn rubs her forehead with the back of her hand. She's filled with confusion. The man she loves is acting strangely. He's not himself. First the fight with Sam, then he had jumped her the second she gotten in last night. Not that she was complaining. Sure, he'd been rougher than normal, but they burned hotter than most couples. Things occasionally got a little out of hand.

Breakfast in bed? To the point where he'd gone out in search for her favorite things. Running away at signs of arousal? Something wasn't right. And she knows better than to expect him to talk to her about it. Than to think he would ever do something other than bury his feelings at the bottom of the deepest pit he can dig for himself. She's not having it. She won't put up with it. Not this time. Not anymore.

Throwing back the covers, she walks to the bathroom door only to find it locked. She snickers. Like a locked door would really keep her out - especially given the amount of time she's spent with the two of them. "Okay, Dean," she whispers as she picks the lock. "Let's get this sorted out..."

She sees the shadow of him behind the thin curtain. She hears the anguish in the whimpers that escape him. It breaks her heart. Everything she had thought to say vanishes and a new approach forms. She yanks off his shirt and slips into the shower behind him. She shivers at the cold, reaching around in front of him to turn up the heat before wrapping her arms around his waist. She presses her body against his and feels him take a shaky breath.

"You shouldn't be here," he says gruffly. "I don't know what..."

"Shh," she soothes. "Babe, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I don't want to hurt you." It's muffled, she has to strain to hear him.

"You won't," she answers. "I won't let you."

"I already have," he says, leaning into the cradle of her body. "You and Sam...and it's only gonna get worse."

She attempts to look at him, moving in front of him to see his face. "Hey," she says. "Stop it, okay? I won't have you talking about the man I love that way..."

Dean refuses to look at her. His eyes are shut tightly, his body remains rigid. "It's true," he responds, "You have no idea what I'm capable of. How far I'll go..."

Her brow furrows, but she keeps her breathing even. She puts her arms around his neck, endeavoring to offer comfort. "You've got a dark side and you can be a loose cannon at times, but..."

He grabs her wrists, his eyes blazing as he finally looks at her. "I practically raped you last night," he cries. He looks at her shoulder, more tears slipping over his cheeks.

She sighs. This was worse than she thought. "Did I say 'no', Dean?" she asks. He shakes his head and she continues, "You can't rape the willing, Winchester. Things got a little out of control. That's gonna happen sometimes. We aren't like ordinary couples. We..."

His focus is on her shoulder. "Does it hurt?" he asks, his fingers passing just under the mark.

She tries to lighten the moment, to prove her point. He didn't do this to her, he did it _with_ her. "About as much as your back," she tells him as she plants a kiss over his heart. "But you can look when we get out," she clucks as she grabs the bar of soap and begins to lather his chest. "Talk to me."

"About what?" He carefully controls himself as her hands wander over his body. She cleanses and renews him in ways she doesn't understand. Ways that have very little to do with soap and everything to do with the woman she is. The strong, stubborn, compassionate, passionate woman he loves with everything he has. He needs to do this for her. To be strong for her. To resist temptation and fight against whatever it is that has taken over.

"About what's bothering you," Kaitlyn says, her hands running over his slick skin.

"No," he answers forcefully.

She pushes at him, backing him against the shower wall. "Don't you dare shut me out," she fumes. "Not this time and never again. I won't let you."

He shuts his eyes. He can feel the tears burning to be released. Her hands are on his hips. They move to his shoulders and down his arms. The motions are soft and meant to comfort. But her touch is electric. It sparks things inside of him. Things that are wild and reckless and demanding. Things that are hot and bothered and... _No. No. No!_ His fists clench. The muscles in his back and abs tense. He tips his head back against the wall.

Her heart squeezes painfully in her chest and shatters into a million tiny pieces. She cups his face. "Babe, talk to me," she pleads. "Please, Dean? I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." She watches his lower lip quiver. She sees the tears that he tries to hide beneath the shower spray. Reaching up on tiptoe, she kisses his cheek. Smoothing the salty droplets, she draws back and sees his emerald eyes fixate on her. Her own search his gaze.

He turns away quickly, but not before she sees the agony and guilt displayed on his handsome features. He reaches for the knob and turns the water to cold. He stands with his back to her under the icy spray.

"That's freezing," she says sadly. Reaching around him, she turns off the water. His sobs are no longer muffled. Tremors rack his body, causing him to shake. Stepping from the shower, she grabs a towel. She wraps it around herself and grabs another one. "Why won't you let me love you?" she asks as she wraps the second towel around his hips.

He growls. "Because I'm dangerous. I'm scared I'll hurt you," he scrubs the tears from his eyes keeping her at arms length. "That I'll do something to make you leave and never come back."

She can't keep her mouth from falling open. She gasps.

"You need to go," he pleads. "Go to Sam. He'll protect you. From me."

Her shock turns into anger. "I don't need protecting," she says. "Certainly not from you."

"I can't be near you and not want to touch you," he says, his hands going to her arms. The movement is calculated. It's light. Just enough to keep the control in hand.

She snickers. "That's nothing new," she reminds him.

His face is sad. It's almost to the point where she starts to doubt. To worry he doesn't want her anymore. "It's more than that. Far worse," he tells her. The next words are shocking. "I want to bury myself inside you, to feel your body tighten around me, to push you until we both ache. I want to take you, to mark you, anytime anyone - even my own fucking brother - looks at you. God, watching him kiss you... I wanted to tear him apart."

"Dean..." she shivers, feeling the loss when his hands suddenly drop to his sides.

"No, Kaitlyn," he glares at her. "It isn't normal. There's something in me. Something controlling me. It's..."

"You're starting to scare me," she says. "The tattoo should block possession. I don't understand..."

"Good," he barks. "You should be scared. It's Jealousy, it's Lust...it's God knows what else." He grabs her. His lips slide firmly over hers in a deep, wet kiss. His tongue is hungry as it strokes against hers. She hears his breathing become more and more ragged as he tries to maintain control. Pulling away, he looks at her face and takes a final pluck at her kiss swollen mouth. "I'm begging you. Leave now and don't look back..."


	6. Already Gone

**A/N:** Are you ready for another #MonsterMonday?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter 5: Already Gone

"Leave?" she repeats, her eyes narrow and she tightens her grip on the towel. "You want me to leave?"

His face forms a hard line. He likes to think that he can hide. That he wears a mask. But she can see it in his eyes. In the tension that touches his jaw and the way he crosses his arms. Most of all, it's in the way he retreats from her. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off.

"That's how it's gonna be? Things get tough and the great Dean Winchester is gonna run away with his tail between his legs?" She questions him. "Oh, wait," she snorts. "You want _me_ to be the one to run away. And you want me to go to the very man you've threatened to tear apart."

"I need you both to go," he says. "I need you to be safe and Sam can protect you. From everything. But especially from me."

"Who says I need protecting? That I want to be protected?" she asks with a flourish.

"I do!" he shouts back at her.

"Not good enough," she yells back. "I love you and I'm not going anywhere. I can handle myself, Dean." She looks him over, her brow furrowing. "And I sure as hell can handle you!"

"You don't get to decide," he tells her.

"The hell I don't," she answers, storming back into the bedroom. "I choose who I want to be with. Not you. I get to decide what I can and can't handle. Not you." Moving to the bed, she taunts him by dropping the towel. "So, you know what, Dean? Come and get me. I'm yours for the taking. I have been for longer than I care to admit."

His lip trembles. His already tense muscles tighten further. His eyes take on a very different shade of green. He's barely able to restrain it, to restrain himself. "No," he growls. "I won't. I don't want you."

She approaches him, purposefully adding a sultry little wiggle to her walk. She runs her fingers over his chest, her palms skimming low as she reaches the edge of the towel. His teeth are clenched when her mouth brushes against him. She attempts to tease him with her tongue. He remains steadfast in his position until a soft sob escapes him.

She takes the advantage, sliding her tongue against his and feeling his arms slip around her. His grip tightens like a boa constrictor. She doesn't back down or pull away. She matches his fervor, gasping for air as he struggles to move them toward the bed.

That's enough to break the spell. Enough to tell him that it's wrong. That he can't do this and hope that they come through it. "No," he whimpers.

She kisses him softly, trying to lure him back. She's desperate to make this okay. Desperate for him to know he has her. That she won't leave. "Shh..." she says, taking his hand she draws him with her to the tangle of sheets.

At first, he goes willingly. The gravitational pull of her body is more than the monster can resist even as he tries to keep it at bay. "No," the sound of the word is a strangled sob. Tears burn his eyes and scald his cheeks. "I can't...I won't..." He pushes her away. Pushes her away so forcefully she nearly topples off the bed.

When she pulls herself up and brushes her hair from her eyes, she calls his name. But it's too late. He's already gone. He's already locked himself away.

"Go," he shouts through the door. "Leave now before it's too late..."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

She knocks heavily on the door, her bag thrown over her shoulder. "Dammit, Sam," she growls under her breath. "Open up..."

The door swings into the room and she nearly knocks him over walking in. "Your brother?" she grinds. "He's out of his fucking mind. I don't know what to do. He told me to leave."

Sam runs a hand through his thick hair and sighs as he leans against the dresser. His brow furrows in confusion. "Dean told you to go? He nearly mauls me over last night and then forces you out of his sight?" He looks her over. Sees the rage bubbling over and shaking her tiny frame. Then he notices it. The bruise barely concealed by the neck of her t-shirt. "Looks like I'm not the only one he roughed up last night..."

Kaitlyn shifts her hand to cover the mark. "It's not what you think Sam."

"That looks like more than a hickey, Kait," he replies. "Did he hurt you?" he asks, putting his hands on her shoulders as he looks at the bite.

She brushes him off, turning her back on him as she paces the room. "It's fine. I'm fine. I just don't know what's gotten into him."

He goes to the computer and pulls up his notes. "I'm still researching. Best I can figure it's a demi-god or some combination of them. It certainly appears to have ties to jealousy and rage," he begins. "There could be more..."

Suddenly it's clear. Their relationship had always been high-octane in the bedroom, but he'd never been so out of control. So close to violent. As a lover, he was thorough and tender. He gave everything and held nothing back. The darkness that consumed him in the light of day or while they were hunting was not as apparent. Only last night, it had been. In a way she hadn't realized before. "Umm," she says as she reaches to pick up her discarded bag and purse. "Listen, I'd better get outta here before he comes looking for me. He told me to come to you, but I don't think it's a good idea, ya know?" she mashes up her face, wrinkling her nose and starts for the door.

"Kait, wait," he says, easily catching up with his longer stride. "You know something else."

She gulps. "Sammy, I can't..." her eyes lower to the floor. "Talk to Dean, okay? Save him from himself."

"Where are you going?" he asks. When she doesn't answer, he tilts her chin up and tucks her hair behind her ear. "You know this won't last. We'll fix it and he'll..."

She smiles weakly. "I know..."

He embraces her, hugging her and comforting her. "Keep in touch. Text me when you've settled somewhere. I won't tell him, I just..."

She nods as her hand closes around the knob. "Take care of him for me, Sam. I'll be seeing you..."

He looks at the worn carpet, wishing he knew what to say. Wishing he could fix this. Wishing he'd let them have their vacation and left them at peace. "I will," he answers. "Don't go far and try to rest."

Walking back, she stretches up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "You're as bad as he is," she mutters. "Quit blaming yourself and find a way to get him back, Sam..." She looks at him as she leans against the open door. "Before it's too late."

~~~~Supernatural~~~~

Dean tugs on his jeans and paces the motel room. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, but he can't shake the nauseous feeling in his gut. He can't help but wonder if sending her away was a mistake. But keeping her safe was never wrong though. He had to protect her at all costs.

He slides a hand through his hair as he grabs his t-shirt. She hadn't worn it for long, yet her scent clung to the aged fabric. That she surrounds him even when he's away from her brings a tear to his eye. He has to get her back. Has to find a way through this. Looking out the window, he watches as her car fades from the parking lot and heads to find his brother.

Sam's waiting at the door. He shoots Dean a look filled with emotion. Ignoring him, Dean makes his way into the room and grabs a water bottle sitting on the table.

"What the hell, Dean?" he asks, leaning on the back of a chair and staring at his big brother. "You attack us both last night and now you want us to run off together to get away from you? Did it ever occur to you that..."

Cracking the cap, Dean opens the bottle and takes a long sip. "Don't start with me, Sammy. You don't know the half of it..."

"Then fill me in. Tell me why Kait looks like she was attacked by a vampire and I'm sporting a shiner," he takes a seat. "Really, I'm all ears..."

"No," he answers, his mouth turning down before he takes another drink.

"I'm not asking, Dean," he says sternly. "We need to get to the bottom of this so we can fix it. The only way we can do that is by talking about it. So start."

He rubs the back of his neck. Debates what he should say. How much information he should give up. He knows Sam is right. That they can't defeat this thing - this monster - without knowing what they're up against. He thinks of Kaitlyn's face, of the hurt in her eyes. It's unbearable. Being without her is unbearable. His chest is tight. He feels...

"Dean?" Sam questions. "Dude, we're burning daylight here. Let's go."

Dean shakes the image of her from his mind. He tries to focus on the preceding two days. "I didn't tell you everything," he confesses. "Heather hissed something at me when I was getting the sandwiches. Then she showed up again at the bar after you left. She touched me. Told me that you and Kait had planned it from the beginning and that I was dumb enough to fall for it."

Sam laughs. "And you bought that?"

Dean glares at his brother. He feels the tension rising and consuming him. He lets out a deep growl. Everything about him says _back off._

Sam's BlackBerry chirps with an incoming text message. He looks at it and punches a few keys.

"What was that about?" Dean snaps.

"It's nothing," he answers, shaking his head. He would have to distract Dean a while longer to give Kaitlyn a chance to go back into their room and get her mother's ring. "So, that was when you came looking for us at the barn? Saw us kiss?"

"Yeah," Dean retorts. "I almost went in after you. I wanted to tear you limb from limb." He flexes his hands into fists at his sides. His demeanor is growing more savage.

"Calm down," Sam warns. "We told you it meant nothing. It was an act. She's like a sister to me."

Dean clamps his eyes shut. He tries to focus through the pounding of the blood in his head. "I know," he answers. "I just..."

"It's not you, it's the monster. What else?" he asks, leaning forward.

Dean is blinded by tears as he remembers the way he man-handled Kaitlyn. His lip quivers. "It was like I blacked out. I don't remember much of what happened with Kait," he says. A voice in the back of his head screams _Liar!_ as he works to control his emotions.

"It's important," Sam coaxes.

"I damn near attacked her, Sammy. Is that what you want to hear? I was brutal - I felt the need to mark her for Christ's sake." He draws a ragged breath. "And then I woke up and I saw what I had done and..."

"And that's when I ran into you in the parking lot," Sam finishes. He waits for Dean's nod. He sighs. "And between then and now?"

"I couldn't let it happen again," he said. "I couldn't..." His voice trails off. "She was naked and wet and I...we were in bed and..."

"Whoa! Awkward. Way more about your sex life than I want to know."

Dean snickers. "Now you know how I felt after the whole Ruby conversation..."

"So you told her to go," Sam finishes, ignoring the dig.

"Yeah," he answers. "I locked myself in the bathroom and I waited until I heard the door. And then I waited for her to leave the parking lot."

Sam runs his hands through his hair. "That's at least three then. Jealousy. Rage. Lust." He considers his brother. Considers all the things he loves about him and all the things that drive him crazy. "You think this has to do with you or with her?" he asks thoughtfully.

"Don't you dare blame Kaitlyn for this!" he spits, pointing a finger.

"Hear me out," Sam says, holding up a hand in response. "I'm not saying this is her fault. I'm saying she's your weakness. We both are. She's exhausted. You're worried about her. I dragged you here..."

"So you think it's feeding on the emotions?"

Sam reasons it out in his head. "Essentially."

"Isn't that what they all do?"

Sam stands up. "Look, Dean, I've gotta research this. Map it out and think it through. We may need to find Heather."

Dean crams his hands in his pockets. "What do I do in the meantime?"

"I'm gonna take a shower," he looks at his watch. "You wanna find something to eat?"

"Yeah," Dean replies absently. "I just gotta get my wallet."

~ ~ ~ ~ Supernatural ~ ~ ~ ~

He slips back into the room and reaches for the billfold on the night table. Something's different. It's almost as though he can feel her. The rich citrus of her shampoo, the unique scent of her skin. He'd swear she was there. Or that she had been there as recently as moments ago.

His heart pounds. He can feel it thundering against his rib cage. He gulps for air as need overwhelms him. He has to find her. _Now_. He can't be without her. He was foolish to believe it was worth trying.

A moment later it hits him. Sam's text. _Who else could it be?_ He races back to his brother's room. Hurries to locate the phone. Struggles to pull it up. And then he sees it. The address of another motel. She isn't far. He's going to find her. And this time, he isn't going to let her go.


	7. This Is Why He's Hot

**A/N:** It's #MonsterMonday! And this one is hot... *fans self*

My muse is in love with my newest story -_ Drag Him From Heaven, Drag Him From Hell_ - so I am going to try to continue writing them both at the same time. If you're enjoying this one, please let me know so that I don't become neglectful of it. I'm considering pulling it, rewriting it and posting it again at a later date if the interest isn't there...which would give me time to get Kait's backstory _Fairest of Them All_ written and ready to go. Your opinion counts!

**Feedback:** What writer doesn't want to know how they're doing? I'd love to hear from you...but I'm willing to take it a step further - I am also a reader, I check the profiles of my reviewers and I make sure to return the favor to those who write. Not a writer yet, but want to be? I also beta and I am more than willing to discuss ideas with aspiring writers.

Special thanks to **stephaniew**...she is a big part of why I started posting this one in the first place. Check her out and show her some love!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Supernatural._

Chapter 6: This Is Why He's Hot

It was hot. So hot you could see the heat rising in waves on the asphalt. She'd needed a distraction. Something to get her out of the room and away from her thoughts. Something to keep her from crying. So, she'd pulled out her swimsuit. The one she had packed on a whim. The one she had bought because of all the ties for Dean to wrap his fingers around.

She shivers. Heaven help her, she loved the way he undressed her. The way his eyes and hands wandered. She dives into the deep end of the pool and swims graceful laps. The water is cool and a little refreshing, but nothing can take away the burn of being without him. It just feels wrong. But she knows she has to be strong. Knows that even if Sam is right - that this is temporary, that he'll come back to her - they've got a long road ahead. She promises she won't just let him right back in.

She reaches the steps and smiles at the red paint on her toenails as she climbs up them. She twists her thick hair over one shoulder to wring some of the water from it. A shadow falls over her. She looks up and into wild green eyes. Eyes that caress her body the same way his hands do - rough and hungry. "Hello, Dean..."

~~~~Supernatural~~~~

On instinct, he walks to the pool. He arrives just in time to see her emerging from the water. To watch it running over her skin in tiny rivers. To see the way the red bikini clings to her like a second skin. The way every man in the areas eyes are glued to the sway of her hips and backside as she climbs the stairs.

His own eyes wander from her cleavage up to her face. Her eyes are closed as she smoothes the water from her hair. She arches deliciously in a way that makes him lick his lips. When she catches him looking at her, he tugs his lower lip between his teeth.

"Hello, Dean," she says slowly as she takes the remaining step out of the pool.

"Where's your towel?" he growls.

She raises her brows. "On the chair where I left it," she answers, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. The action only serves to increase her cleavage.

"Cover up," he demands.

"No," she answers simply.

"We need to talk," he husks.

She sighs. She's not going to cave to this behavior. Giving him his way is out of the question. "Yes," she agrees. "We do."

"Where's your room?" he asks, grabbing the towel from the chair next to her flip flops. He wraps it around her, shielding her from prying eyes.

Unmoved by his caveman behavior, she unwraps the towel. Propping a foot on the chair, she delicately draws it over first one long leg and then the other. It's deliberate, agonizingly slow, and she does it without looking at him. "Nothing wrong with talking here," she says after a stretch of silence.

"Not private," he snarls.

Giving in is admitting defeat. It's letting him back in. She knows what will happen the second they're alone. She knows she'll forget, if only temporarily.

He takes her arm, half dragging her behind him. She wrenches away with a huff and goes back for her shoes and the towel. She takes her time winding it around her, ignoring the impatience in his breathing.

She stalks across the parking lot. It's difficult staying two steps ahead of him with the difference in their height, but she manages. She needs to be in control. She needs to be the boss this time. To call the shots. So she stops at the Charger, reaching into the trunk and grabbing another bag.

"What was so important that we needed to discuss it behind closed doors?" Kaitlyn asks as they finally walk into her motel room. She flicks on the light. "What are you afraid of, Dean?"

He closes the door, immediately pressing her back against it. "I don't like to share," he growls, his mouth hot on hers as he parts the towel wrapped around her. It drops heavily to floor at her feet. His hands roam her skin, as he presses against her.

"It's a bikini, Dean," she says breathlessly. Her hands fist in his t-shirt. She purrs, biting her lip as his fingertips stroke down the curve of her waist. His touch is possessive, hands gliding over parts of her body she's sure the men at the pool looked at. Parts that no other man has touched in a long time.

"It's a scrap," he complains. He continues to touch her with his hands and his mouth. He devours her, all of his senses taking her in. It's overwhelming, intoxicating. He can't get enough. He was wrong to send her away and he knows it. Somehow - right now - that detail seems unimportant. She's here. She's with him. That's all that matters.

She tries to shift away, her body crying out in protest as his hands are momentarily forced from her. She's missed him. Needed him. Wanted to have him close. "I thought we were going to talk..."

His breath burns against her ear as he grunts, "Talking's over-rated."

"I'm serious..." she protests. A whimper creeps out, erasing the hard line she's attempted to draw. The line she had promised herself he'd need a damn good explanation before she'd let him cross.

"Uh-huh," he mumbles, his mouth otherwise occupied and trying to distract her. "This is serious," he husks, eyeing the mirrors on the ceiling over the bed. "Incredibly urgent."

It's hard to be frustrated as he works her over, but still she fights it. Fights to keep control. Fights to remain standing and capable of speech. "You're not playing fair," she warns.

"Since when have I ever played fair?" he smirks, drawing his t-shirt up and dropping it to the floor. He pulls her hands to his chest before running his own up over her breasts to her shoulders. He plucks at the strings tied behind her neck, his smile predatory as they come undone. Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her shoulder. He lowers her top, his hands caressing the newly bared skin.

His eyes are nearly molten when he gives her the look. The one that makes her body temperature rise ten degrees and causes her melt. The one that tells her he's coming after her panties and she has no hope of keeping them.

And that's when he kisses her. So softly at first she barely feels it. He deepens it, working her over with his tongue and stealing her breath.

"Dean," she whimpers, her mind warring with her body as she pulls him closer.

His hands wander her back, drifting low to her hips and bikini bottoms. The deep red contrasts sinfully with her skin. He fondles the ties at the sides. His eyes gaze into hers as he wraps the ends around his fingers. All he needs to do is give them a nice firm..._yank._

"I love this suit," he tells her as he places open-mouthed kisses over her chest, as he undoes the last tie behind her back, dropping the wet article to the floor. He samples the flavor of her skin with gentle sweeps of his tongue, watching as her breathing quickens. "So sexy," he croons as his lips close around a taut peak causing her to gasp. "It's even sexier on the floor."

Her fingers twist into his hair. "Oh, God," she breathes.

"You can call me Dean," he commands, the rough tone of his voice petting her every bit as much as his hands. He works to rid himself of his remaining clothes, leaving them standing in front of each other completely naked.

She stares at him, panting as she struggles to forget what it feels like to be splay beneath him, wrapped around him, filled by him. To remember what they were fighting about. To remember how she could be angry at him when he made her feel this way. She reaches for him, moaning at the contact.

He needs to make her wild, drive her out of her mind with desire. To feel her - all of her - as she writhes beneath him. Needs to make her forget that nothing is more important than being together. He knows she's getting there when her hands roam his body, groping at his skin. "What you do to me..." he growls.

She laughs, when he pushes her onto the bed. She gives his body an appraising once-over as he slides over her, stopping to lick and nibble along the way. "Feeling lucky, Winchester?" she purrs, forcing him into the mattress.

"I'm pretty sure you'll be the lucky one when I'm finished with you," he entices, the pad of his thumb sliding over her swollen lower lip. He moans, his eyes closing as she sucks the digit.

He loves her mouth. Whether they're fighting, kissing or doing other things, he knows he'll never get enough of it as long as he lives. He teases her flushed skin with calloused hands. Always just enough to leave her wanting more. Enough to make her hungry. As hungry as she makes him.

She leans down, pressing her lips to his in a fiery kiss. He brushes her hair over her shoulders, his hands slipping down her back. They massage and pull her into him. He can't remember a time when he felt this way about anyone else. When he would do anything for anyone other than Sam. More than that, he can't remember a time when he was so willing to surrender - to completely let go. A time when he wanted to have that effect on someone else. He wants her to let go. To watch her shatter into a million tiny pieces at his touch.

She squirms against his abdomen as he strokes her, teasing her into a frenzy of epic proportions. He longs to taste her. To drink her in and make her cry out. He hates that he has to choose. Worries that trying to reverse their positions again would give her time to think. Time to remember and back off. That this would end. That they'd be unfulfilled.

She grows more slick under his fingers. Her eyes roll with pleasure, her head falling back. He can see her eyes are closed in the mirrors above them, that she's unable to watch the beauty of her face as her orgasm dawns. He wants her to see it - to see what he does to her. He moves to join them, to fuse them together. When he aligns their bodies, she's more than ready. She greedily seats herself in his lap, taking him in quickly. She undulates, grinding against him and taking her fill. She's wet and wanton, wild above him.

Dean feels her getting closer. Feels the little ripples of satisfaction that tear through Kaitlyn's body and reach his. He rolls her beneath him, his lips brush over her throat. His breath is hot on her ear when he makes his demand, "Open your eyes."

As she quivers beneath him, it hits her. The thing that makes this room different from others she's stayed in. The thing that she had laughed about when she noticed...only to cry later at the thought of how much enjoyment he'd have gotten out of it. She bites her lip, the comment she had made to ease the sadness coming to mind. _Dean and Kaitlyn make a porno. 'Cause that would be hot..._

He licks the shell of her ear. "Open your eyes, Kaitlyn," he pleads. "I want you to see what I see when you fly over the edge." He suckles her earlobe. "I want you to see the look you get when I make you come."

She can't deny him - can't ignore the demand in his voice - so she looks up. She sees her eyes blazing with lust, sees the taut and sexy lines of his back as he thrusts. She watches her hands as they touch him. The way her nails rake gently over his flesh. It's hot and a little embarrassing. Decadent and maddening. She sees the way she arches beneath him, the way she uses her legs to draw him in. She watches the shape her mouth forms as she cries out his name just before her eyes slam shut.

Her excitement - the way she moves and cradles his body - drags him over the edge of his own climax. When he moves, it's to lay next to her, his fingers twisting around hers. They both drift in the after-glow, barely hanging on the precipice of consciousness.

"That was," he begins, turning his head to look at her.

Shifting onto her side, she finishes, "Intense." Her fingers brush over the tattoo on his chest. "You're..."

He snickers. "Hot."

"Not enough space in here for your ego, Dean," she teases. Pulling the pillow from beneath her head, she hits him with it. "God, you're out of control..."

He moves over her, making her gasp as he kisses her thoroughly. Pulling back, his eyes seek hers. "Because you make me that way..."

When he tries to take her lips again, she pushes him away. "I'm not falling into the same trap twice," she tells him. "You came here for a reason, Dean. Start talking."


End file.
